


Ducklings and Daisies

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He saw someone coming around the bend all of a sudden, not in a car but on a bicycle, pedaling fast and the guy wasn’t even looking where he was going. His helmeted head was tipped up towards the sky and he was paying zero attention, so Dean shouted, “Hey asshole, watch out for the ducks!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ducklings and Daisies

Dean could feel the tension easing from his shoulders as he drove past the last stop sign in town. Just a winding country road lay ahead of him, weaving through the forest at the foothills of the mountains. Even though he lived in a small town that was quiet and sedate, there was something about driving through the near deserted backwoods roads that made him feel good. Dappled sun through the bright green canopy flitted over the car and warmed his arms. He could have sworn that just last week everything was skeletal and gray, and now color burst almost overnight. 

Sam had already given him a call early that morning. Just to say ‘hi’, just to ask Dean to say ‘hi’ to mom for him. Dean hadn’t seen Sam since Christmas, but they usually only got together a handful of times a year. It should feel like a sad day, but it didn’t and Dean was done with feeling guilty about that. He eased his baby around the sharp curves as he made his way deeper into the forest. 

Coming around a bend, Dean slammed his brakes on, rubber squealing on asphalt and he gripped the wheel tight as he barely skidded to a halt a few feet in front of a line of little yellow ducklings waddling across the road. At the noise and threat his massive car made, they flapped and scattered, the mama duck running all over the road corralling them back into a line. Dean turned off his car and got out, feeling kind of bad for disturbing them. He saw one duckling running the complete opposite direction of where the mama was leading the others, so Dean ran after it and shooed it back towards where it was supposed to go. 

They were in a sunny patch, where the forest opened to a section of field and Dean knew there was a lake nearby; his destination was just past that. He wondered if the ducks lived at the lake. It had gotten warm real quick and he was still so used to the chill lingering from winter that he had his leather jacket on. Shucking it, he tossed it into the car and moved around it to lean against the front grill and watch the ducks. They’d just gotten themselves back into a neat little line, tiny webbed feet pit patting across the road. Dean counted eleven ducklings. That seemed like a lot, but it’s not like he knew shit about how many ducks came to a litter, or whatever it was called. 

Pushing off the car, he looked up and down the road. The bend was pretty sharp and he’d near about run over the ducks himself, he wouldn’t want someone else to come flying around the turn and hit them. Dean kept a watchful eye out, not perturbed at all by the break in his day. He didn’t particularly have a schedule.

He saw someone coming around the bend all of a sudden, not in a car but on a bicycle, pedaling fast and the guy wasn’t even looking where he was going. His helmeted head was tipped up towards the sky and he was paying zero attention, so Dean shouted, “Hey asshole, watch out for the ducks!”

The cyclist snapped to attention, jerked his handlebars, caught sight of the ducks and swerved. He turned himself too far and ran off into the shallow ditch by the road, falling off his bike. Shit. Dean winced as he heard him go down hard with muffled cursing and a solid thud. 

Making his way over to the ditch, Dean slid down the small slope to help the guy up. His bike looked a little beat up, one wheel sticking out kind of funny, and there was a white woven basket attached to the front. What must have been in the basket was strewn across the ground, a bouquet of daisies. The guy was sitting on his ass, swaying a little and holding his thigh while he bent his leg up and turned his ankle. 

“Hey, dude, sorry to startle you, are you okay?”

Big blue eyes looked up at Dean. “Yeah, I think I’m fine. Oh no, my flowers.”

He pushed himself up and wobbled forward, bending down and picking up a daisy with a snapped stem. Ahead of them, the ducks were disappearing into the woods. 

“I’m more worried about you than the flowers. Sure nothing’s too banged up?”

The guy unbuckled his helmet and took it off, dark hair sticking up at all sorts of funny angles. He ran his fingers through his hair and frowned. “Yes, I’m fine, just a tumble. Although I’m not sure about the bike.”

Cradling his helmet under his arm, he lifted up his bike and frowned at it. 

“Shit. Sorry. If you can’t ride it, I could probably fit it in my trunk and give you a ride.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I feel like it was kind of my fault, even if you weren’t looking where you were going.”

“I was distracted. I was bird watching a bit. I know I shouldn’t get distracted on these roads but I could have sworn I saw a heron.”

“Where you headed to?”

The man hauled his bike up to the road and swung a leg over it, turning the wheels one way then another and fiddling with the pedals. He sighed and swung his leg back over. 

“The Glendale Cemetery, it’s not much farther. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a ride that would be great.” 

Dean smiled and popped the trunk. “Hey, I’m actually headed there myself. I’ll give you a lift,” he explained as he pulled an old blanket out of the trunk and folded it over the bumper so the bike wouldn’t scratch his car on the way in, “My name’s Dean. What about you?”

The guy helped him lift up and load the bike. “Castiel. Thank you, Dean.”

It was a bit too big to fit in the trunk, the handlebars hanging out one side and Dean moved the blanket over there to wedge under them as he fished out some bun-jee cords, pulling the trunk lid down and securing it. 

Castiel was bent over picking up the scattered daisies from the ditch, and Dean most definitely was not looking at his firm spandex clad butt. God, he was one of those cyclist guys that wore spandex shorts - neon yellow spandex shorts - and why was he going to a cemetery in spandex shorts with a bunch of daisies. At least his gray shirt was baggy even if it stuck to him with sweat. Dean shuffled over and helped pick up a few of the flowers. A car came around the bend and honked loudly at Dean’s parked Impala before passing it. 

Dean opened up the passenger door for Castiel, arms full of his crushed and broken daisies. Dean felt kind of bad about that. He went around to the drivers side, buckled in and started her up. Castiel was silent next to him. It was all right. Dean had a lot on his mind today too. It was only another five minutes up the road to the cemetery. 

Dean pulled in, and usually he parked his car near Mary’s tombstone but he wasn’t sure where Castiel was heading. 

“So uh, I’ll just park here?”

“Yes, that’s fine, thank you. If you want to leave my bike here, I’ll come back and get it when I’m finished.”

“Dude, I’m going to be spending some time here, I’ll give you a ride back in to town.”

“Are you sure?”

Castiel looked at him across the seat, squinting, and it made something squirm in Dean’s belly. Today was a weird day. 

“Yeah. I just uh, came to visit my mom, you know, say happy mother’s day. I like spending time with her here, or just, you know, with her memory.”

It didn’t really hurt like it used to. Actually, Dean found it kind of comforting to just come and talk to his mom, or her memory. Whatever. 

Castiel blinked, scrunched up his mouth and shifted the flowers in his arms. He picked out one single unbroken, uncrushed daisy - and there weren’t a whole lot of them - and passed it over to Dean. 

“Here, give this to her for me. I just came to bring these to my mother too. I usually stay about an hour.”

Dean reached out and took the daisy from him, nodding. “Thanks man. She loved flowers.”

“Daisies were always my mother’s favorite.”

Dean pocketed his keys and stepped out into the warm air, a light breeze whipping around in different directions. He moved around the passenger side, Castiel trying to open his door with his daisies all loose in his arms, so Dean opened it for him. Castiel mumbled a ‘thank you’ and wandered away. 

Picking his way through rows of tombstones, Dean found his mother’s and plopped down, sitting cross legged and setting the daisy across the top of it. 

“Hey ma, happy mother’s day. Sammy says hi. Man, today’s been weird. I met a cute guy, he’s here to see his mother too, he’s kind of strange, but uh, nice. I’ll tell you if that goes anywhere. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen Sammy, but we talk all the time, I think things are getting pretty serious between him and Jess. Dad’s uh, he still hasn’t woken up yet. But don’t worry, I keep him company, they say you can still hear stuff around you when you’re in a coma, you know, I go read to him once a week. Been a bit lonely without you guys, but don’t you worry about me mom, I get by pretty well. Work at the garage is going good. Sammy keeps telling me I should get a pet. I started with a plant though. Got a fern. Let’s see, what else has been going on….”

Dean chatted about everything that had happened in his life since the last time he’d been here to visit, which admittedly was not a whole lot. He usually came by two times a year, once around her birthday and once on mother’s day and it was almost a six month split so that turned out good. Last year, Sam had come in to town for Thanksgiving and they came up here to see Mary together. 

When he was done talking, he sat quietly, turning his head up to watch for birds and see if maybe he could see that heron Castiel had mentioned. It had probably gone where it had wanted to go. Dean wasn’t too sure if they were solitary birds or not. The sun was warm on his skin and it was quiet, peaceful. He glanced to her tombstone and ran his hand over the dates, smiling at the little daisy on top before picking himself up and wandering back towards the Impala. 

Castiel wasn’t there, so he walked around the grounds a little. It was an old cemetery, some of the tombstones so crumbled and worn you couldn’t get a name off them. But there were massive trees that must have been here for hundreds of years, offering shade and a place to lean. Dean didn’t stray too far from his car, and when he saw Castiel walking towards it, he headed back. 

“Hey. Have a good chat?”

Dean smiled over the roof of his car. Castiel ducked his head, smiled just a little, his arms unburdened with flowers hanging at his side and he looked back up at Dean when he said, “Yeah, I did actually.”

“That’s good.”

The doors were still unlocked and they slid in to the car, buckling up and driving on through the narrow cemetery lanes back to the road. The radio was silent, Dean liked to turn it off sometimes when he rode through the forest and country side, just listening to nothing. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel and glanced at Castiel through the corner of his eyes. The guy’s helmet sat on the seat between them, his hands folded in his lap as he tilted his head towards the sun and his hair somehow got even messier in the wind, both windows rolled down. 

“So, you live back in town?”

“Yes. Do you know the laundromat on Main Street? Personal Touch?”

Dean laughed, every fucking time he passed that stupid laundromat he wondered why someone would name it ‘Personal Touch’. “Yeah, I know the place.”

“I live in an apartment above it. Dean, what’s so funny?”

“You don’t think they could have picked a better name?”

“Well they do dry cleaning services there too, and you can drop off your regular laundry for them to clean and fold. So it has a - personal touch, if that’s what you’d like to pay for.”

Dean would have been staring if he didn’t have to keep his eyes on the road. “Oh man, you’re serious aren’t you? Does the personal touch service come with a happy ending?”

Castiel was quiet for a pause and Dean briefly wondered if he’d offended the guy, when he answered, “I suppose. Clean laundry does always make me happy. I like to splurge on lavender dryer sheets.”

Clueless. He was totally clueless. Or just playing Dean. And Dean kind of didn’t want to drop him off at his apartment and leave it there. They came up to the stop sign at the edge of town and Dean turned in his seat, catching the time on the dash at well past one p.m. “Hey, Cas, it’s getting kind of late, you wanna pick up lunch with me?”

Castiel turned towards him, head tipped to the side a little. “Sure. Anywhere in particular?”

“There’s a great sandwich shop a few blocks from here.”

“Could we take it to the park? We could bird watch there without running in to things. If you’d like.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. A picnic, for bird watching, in the park. “Oh man that would have to be the strangest first date I’ve ever been on.”

“Date? Oh, you meant, you wanted to go on a lunch date?”

His blue eyes were wide and he looked to be floundering a little and shit Dean, really, just gonna lay it all out there cause his ass looks good in spandex? You met him a few hours ago and you both just came back from visiting your mothers at the cemetery. Not the best time to pick someone up. 

He was still sitting at the stop sign. Scratching the back of his neck, he took his foot off the break and pulled away. “Shit. Sorry, if that’s … kind of weird. Yeah. We just met, bad idea. Sorry.”

Castiel shook his head, “No, no I was just surprised. I hadn’t realized that was what you meant. A picnic date in the park sounds perfect, actually.”

Dean turned down the street with the sandwich shop. “Yeah?”

“I would like that, Dean.”

Dean glanced over and Cas was smiling all big that it made his eyes crinkle. “Yeah. Yeah okay, picnic date it is.”


End file.
